Careless. From the heaven

Of my delight, where the boon Delphic God
Drinks sack, and keeps his Bacchanalia,
And has his incense, and his altars smoaking,
And speaks in sparkling prophesies; thence I came.
My brain's perfumed with the rich Indian vapour,
And heighten'd with conceits. From tempting beauties,
From dainty music, and poetic strains

From bowls of nectar, and ambrosiac dishes;
From witty varlets, fine companions,

And from a mighty continent of pleasure,

Sails thy brave Careless.


THE egregious gullibility of some of this plodding but useful tribe, (who, in spite of the many absurdities into which they have fallen, have still contributed much to rescue the text of Shakspeare from the errors and obscurities with which its was previously defaced,) is perfectly ludicrous; and, as the following instance will evince, has been carried by one, at least, of their members to an almost incredible pitch.

Most of our readers cannot fail to recollect that beautiful passage in "Hamlet," as excellent in the sentiment, as appropriate in the expression, in which the Prince exclaims,

"There's a Divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how he will."

This seems perfectly clear; but Mr. Steevens has thought otherwise, and has fixed upon it the most absurd, ridiculous, and degrading comment that ever entered the brain of man. Alluding to the trade of Shakspeare's father as a wooldealer or butcher, and to the conjecture that the poet followed the same business before he came up to London, he actually deduces an argument in favour of this supposition from the beautiful lines quoted above. As our readers will, no doubt, wonder by what process of the imagination this singular result is brought about, we shall here copy his note entire, for their satisfaction.

"Dr. Farmer informs me, that these words are merely technical. A woolman, butcher, and dealer in skewers, lately observed to him, that his nephew (an idle lad) could only assist him in making them ;-' he could rough-hew them, but I was obliged to shape their ends.' To shape the ends of wool-skewers, i. e. to point them, requires a degree of skill; any one can rough-hew them. Whoever recollects the profession of Shakspeare's father, will admit that his son might be no stranger to such terms. I have frequently seen packages of wool pinn'd up with skewers.--STEEVENS."

It is hardly possible but that Dr. Farmer, who

was a man of great learning and judgment, was here playing off a joke upon the credulity of poor Steevens, little imagining that it could be taken seriously, that Shakspeare had put into the mouth of the Prince of Denmark, in reference to the superintending wisdom of Providence, a figure taken from the exalted occupation of a skewer maker. Be this as it may, the reader has seen how gravely this interpretation was adopted by Steevens himself, from whom, such is the force of imitation, it has been copied with equal solemnity, by Dr. Drake, in his "Shakspeare and his Times."


THE father of this celebrated actor was an Irish factor in the city of London, and resided in Goldsmith Street at the time of the birth of this his son, who was baptized March 8, 1746-7. One year after his birth, the father died, and left his widow and two children, both sons, with a very slender provision. At the age of two years, he was removed, with his mother, to Newport Pagnel, in Buckinghamshire, where he continued ten years, and afterwards went to a boardingschool kept by Dr. Sterling, at Hemel Hemp

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